


give me one good movie kiss and i'll be all right

by panpanya



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17905001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpanya/pseuds/panpanya
Summary: Slowly, Ash kisses him on the top of his head. Then he whispers, again and again, that it’s okay. That Eiji will turn out all right. That he loves him, more than anything else in the world, that even if the world turns upside down right on the moment, Ash will still stay with him and hold him with all his might. That his love for him is true, flowing like an endless river.





	give me one good movie kiss and i'll be all right

**Author's Note:**

> Someone very kind on CC gave me an angst prompt so here is your meal!!
> 
> Also, the title is taken from a lyric from Mitski's song, Nobody.

The morning is foggy and cool. Its atmosphere brings the air of melancholy inside through the gaps of the windows, and the slow wind swings the leaves of trees, the grass, and the small plants gently. It’s not a so nice morning; no sunshine, no birds, no warm breezes.

 

Eiji’s mood is almost the reflection of the weather. He doesn’t know why, not exactly, but his heart is weary ever since he wakes up. There is something heavy in his chest, something sour that he wishes he could scoop out.

 

He wakes alone. Ash’s side of bed is still warm, the bedsheet crumpled, indicating that it hasn’t been long since Ash went. Eiji lies down again, pressing the back of his head hard on the pillow, eyes fixed on the whitewashed ceiling. He knows that Ash must be in the kitchen making breakfast, but the loneliness somehow cuts a patch of his heart. The shrilling sound of wind gets louder with each second passing.

 

He brushes his teeth idly and washes his face, then stares at his wet face in the mirror. He looks not fresh at all. Awful, even.

 

“Hi, Eiji,” Ash greets him nicely, turning his head to face him while his hand is busy flipping eggs. He smiles. Eiji doesn’t reciprocate. He wants to, but his lips are stiff. No matter how hard he tries to at least twitch it upwards, it just doesn’t work. Ash doesn’t seem to take the hint. So he rolls away with it. “Omelet for breakfast! Doesn’t it smell good?”

 

“Mhm,” Eiji manages to mumble. It’s a little hard to talk and be coherent when his tongue feels thick. He feels like dropping to the floor and crying; and, upon realizing how easy and effortless that would be right now, it makes him feel even more ill.

 

He sits on the dining chair, and almost immediately, his head spins. Tears brim in the corner of his eyes. He holds it. He doesn’t want to cry. Not here. Not when Ash is around.

 

But it’s as if a nail is being knocked into his head. He can ignore the pain, but not the tears. “Ash,” his voice cracks. “I think I’ll skip breakfast today. Sorry.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Ash asks as Eiji departs from his seat.

 

“Nothing, Ash.”

 

He hears Ash exclaiming his name vaguely, but he can’t reply, because he’s already crying. Clasping his mouth with one hand to blur out the sobs, Eiji locks the bathroom door and slides down to the floor.

 

He cries. It doesn’t make him feel better though, if anything, he just feels _worse_. He feels weak.

 

On the other hand, Ash is, of course, concerned. He thinks, at first, that Eiji is in the bedroom, but once he hears indistinct cries from the bathroom, he stops his steps. Ash freezes.

 

Eiji is crying.

 

He walks towards the door, reaching out to touch the handle. He stops. He can’t do it. Whatever is stopping him must be evil, because it’s hindering him from helping Eiji, from saving him; but Ash’s movements are stopped. Even his mind is paused.

 

He realizes that he doesn’t know what to do. Usually, he’s the one to quickly adapt to situations, but when Eiji is like this, he doesn’t know how to act. It’s always Eiji doing the comforting for him. Not the other way around.

 

So he stands there, unmoving and feeling totally helpless. He raises his hand again to at least knock, but his knuckle, barely touching the door, drops again. He knows that he should help him. Hug him, talk it out with Eiji if he wants, but he doesn’t have the power to do all that. It breaks him, pieces to pieces.

 

Roughly ten minutes later, there is a click behind the door, and it opens. Now he faces Eiji, eyes swollen and face red. Instinctively, he holds him, pulling Eiji close to him, one hand in his hair and the other around his waist.

 

That’s all Ash can do. He can’t even speak. Eiji starts to sob again.

 

Ash leads him to the bedroom, and then to the bed, so they can hold each other more comfortably. Eiji continues to cry, while Ash is too bewildered to say. Then, when he finally musters his voice again, he talks, “it’s okay.”

 

He knows it’s not. If it were okay, Eiji wouldn’t be crying.

 

Eiji is clutching his shoulder, sobbing violently to his chest, not even pausing to breathe. Ash, still mute, caresses his hair softly, sometimes twirling the strands in hopes of calming Eiji down.

 

“I don’t know,” Eiji says in between. “What’s wrong with me. I don’t know.”

 

“It’s all right, I understand, you don’t have to know. You don’t—have to tell me.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Slowly, Ash kisses him on the top of his head. Then he whispers, again and again, that it’s okay. That Eiji will turn out all right. That he loves him, more than anything else in the world, that even if the world turns upside down right on the moment, Ash will still stay with him and hold him with all his might. That his love for him is true, flowing like an endless river.

 

Eiji’s cries gradually come to an end. He’s quiet again, breathing steadily and hiccupping sometimes. Ash doesn’t let go of his hold, though, neither he stops brushing Eiji’s hair with his fingers. Eiji rests his forehead on Ash’s shoulder. His chest heaves at first, and slows down after some time.

 

“I’m—“  


“Ssh. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to tell me anything,” Ash says. He presses his lips on Eiji’s forehead, and he can hear Eiji sighing in content, sighing in relief, like he’s been relieved from pain. It must be a great suffering, Ash thinks, to keep all your bitter feelings to yourself and cry alone.

 

“I’m sorry. Your shirt is now all wet.”

 

Ash chuckles. “Don’t worry about that. How about we take a nap?”

 

“But breakfast?”

 

“That can wait. You need rest.”

 

That morning, Ash holds Eiji tighter in his sleep, and Eiji can smile again.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi to me on Twitter: [icryoverships](https://twitter.com/Icryoverships)


End file.
